


Red Tape

by Anonymous



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Desk Sex, Harrow being The King, M/M, No beta we die like Moonshadow Elves, Viren on a hair trigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harrow’s chest hair rubbed against the nubs of Viren’s spine. Viren’s toes curled, his body singing with heat. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
Relationships: Harrow/Viren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Red Tape

It was when Harrow shifted in his seat for the fifteenth time in as many minutes that Viren finally broke. “If I had any idea how squirmy this would make you, I never would have agreed to this.”

He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was hot all over; moisture clinging to his skin like the air on a sweltering hot summer day. It tickled his temples and slicked the spaces between his fingers.

Harrow chuckled. “It’s a good thing you’re not a clairvoyant, then.”

His words, puffed warmly against the back of Viren’s neck, together with another slight shift in position, made Viren grit his teeth. He clenched his fingers around his quill. His grip was slipping, yet he made himself dip the tip down into the inkwell. Returning it to the paper, he affected nonchalance. “Yes. How you managed to stand still for an entire portrait–”

“ _Two_ entire portraits.”

“– is beyond me.”

His paper was almost full. There were only a few more lines missing and he’d composed them in his head already. He could get through this, Viren told himself.

Another squirm. This time, Harrow’s chest hair rubbed against the nubs of Viren’s spine. Viren’s toes curled, his body singing with heat. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

He was teetering on the edge of a sigh. Harrow’s grip on his hip turned into a squeeze. “Hey. You were the one who absolutely needed to finish this report.”

“A report I am writing _for you_ ,” said Viren.

He stretched a little, so he could brush the soles of his naked feet against the stone floor of his study and use the cold to ground himself.

Harrow, apparently determined not to allow him a moment’s reprieve, dug his thumb into the base of Viren’s spine. A hint of exasperation crept into his voice. “I kept telling you to give it to me orally.”

Viren, focus scattered, shot a dry look over his shoulder. “Yes, I recall you telling me to ‘give it to you orally,’ but I sincerely doubt you meant the report.”

“You shouldn’t doubt your king, Viren.” Harrow’s amused voice dropped into a low, rumbling purr. “After all, your king knows best. Isn’t he taking such good care of you now?”

His hand, the one that had been just resting on Viren’s knee up until now, slid upwards, fingertips feather-soft against the inside of his thigh.

Viren’s eyes flew open. He scrambled, trying to simultaneously drop the quill somewhere it wouldn’t spill ink all over the papers on his desk and grab his discarded shirt. Unfortunately, said shirt was slung over the armrest of his desk chair and therefore halfway trapped under Harrow. Viren’s body locked up before he could get it, the heat in his belly boiling over, flushing all thought from his veins.

Harrow made a surprised noise. It sounded breathy; punched-out. He likely hadn’t anticipated such a reaction; the sudden, tight clutch. For the better part of the last hour, his king’s thick rod had nestled snugly in the intimate softness of Viren’s slicked arse, long enough for them both to fall into gradual relaxation. No more.

Wetness trickled along both their inner thighs. Viren leant forward onto his elbows, breath rasping in his throat. His skin prickled all over.

Harrow’s lips brushed his bare shoulder. “That was unexpected.”

Viren bent further, until his chest rested on the table. “Ugh.”

The wood was blissfully cool under his forehead. He turned his face to the side, so he could rub his cheek against it, and closed his eyes.

After a moment, Harrow’s arm slid around him. Knowing what was about to happen, Viren remained pliant when Harrow pressed their hips securely together, got his feet under him and stood up. The movement pushed Viren further onto the table, sending him sprawling over his reports and papers.

Harrow leaned over and into Viren, repositioning his grip on his hips and pulling out a little. “How selfish to come all over yourself while your king is still waiting for his release.”

“Ngh.”

Harrow straightened. The change in angle enough to spark a shiver that made Viren’s knees go weak. “It seems I need to remind you again, Viren, that you’re a _servant_ of Katolis.”

He pushed back in, forcefully reasserting himself into the space that had cradled him so comfortably for nigh on an hour before. The thrust was harsh enough to make the paper crinkle under Viren’s chest. He tried to remain loose and welcoming to the invasion, but now that his own pleasure had faded to a faint hum in his veins, it became difficult to accommodate the fat cock spearing his hole. He sucked a breath through his mouth, then exhaled through his nose.

“That’s it,” said Harrow. “Serve your king and country.”

Viren grunted. Yet, the discomfort spread its own kind of fire through his veins: the heaviness of Harrow above him, the additional weight of their duties, the certainty that his legs wouldn’t support him should he attempt to stand. He was stuck here, positioned ideally for his king to make use of his body. In the end, it wouldn’t even matter whether Viren wanted him – he was to tolerate the act, as a good subject would. His breath hitched. Prickling heat spread through his loins, lingering there with nowhere to go, because he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Harrow’s thrusting picked up speed. Viren flung his arms out to grip the edges of the table and steady himself. Everything felt so wet and slick, he thought muzzily, even if he were to try and close off his body to this, his king would just slide right in deep anyway.

Above him, Harrow panted like a rutting animal. His grip pressed purple marks into Viren’s hips as he yanked him onto his shaft with every thrust. He was merciless, and Viren could do nothing but accept it. The thought made his head spin. He gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the rhythmic whimpers that threatened to spill from his throat.

All of a sudden, Harrow’s hands slid away. One palm came down on Viren’s arse with a resounding smack. Viren hiccuped, eyes going wide, and felt himself clench all over.

“Oh, yeah,” Harrow groaned and did it again. This time, he pressed onto Viren with all of his weight, pushing and pushing, as if, in the height of his passion, he was trying to insert more of himself than just his seed. Viren didn’t feel the warm spurts, only the twitching against his over-sensitive entrance. He bore down, helping Harrow wring every last drop of pleasure from his body.

Then the king fell truly onto him, spent. His sweat slicked the glide of their bodies.

Viren let go of the table. Harrow, rubbing his cheek against Viren’s shoulder, interlaced their fingers. Together, they caught their breaths.

“This is always the sweetest part,” the king muttered.

“Mmm.”

Eventually, when their chests seemed to rise as one and the thumping of Harrow’s heart seemed to echo the pulse in Viren’s throat, they disentangled. It was time – a moment longer or he would have fallen asleep, right there, flattened against his own table.

Harrow stepped back to give him some space, and Viren stretched, mentally checking his body. The ache in his backside was familiar, as was the wet trickle between his cheeks. Cautiously, he tested his busted knee. He had a habit of forgetting about it when they were _preoccupied_ , but this time, it seemed to have gotten away scot-free.

Sadly, the same couldn’t be said about the table. Viren groaned. “Look at this mess.”

Harrow burst out laughing.

Viren turned on him and was about to say something scathing when he noticed that the other wasn’t looking at the table but at him. He looked down his own chest and discovered lines upon lines of ink printed there, where he’d laid on his half-dried report. The paper, when he picked it up, was smudged.

“It appears I’ll have to write this up again,” Viren said, dismayed. “My apologies. It will be on your desk first thing tomorrow… noon.”

“Or,” said Harrow, still grinning. “You could come upstairs with me.”

“But the report–”

“– is conveniently preserved here.” His finger circled a nipple. “I might as well read it in bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... I'm new to the Virrow fandom. Hi. Would anyone (if anyone's even still around...) be interested in longer Virrow fic?


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